


Training Session

by cactusnell



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3102689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cactusnell/pseuds/cactusnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not many people can handle the world's only consulting detective.  Surprisingly, one small pathologist can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training Session

Constable Diane Smith was new to this division of Scotland Yard, and was eager to hone her skills at observing and deducing. She figured that there was no place better suited to this than under the tutelage of DI Greg Lestrade, especially as he often consulted the famous, or sometimes infamous, Sherlock Holmes. Constable Smith had already been at several crime scenes involving this partnership. Sometimes Holmes would show up by himself, but often he was accompanied by his friend and partner Dr. John Watson. Smith liked to watch their techniques. If a body was involved Holmes always suggested that Dr. Watson examine the corpse, and she would observe their easy going manner with one another. Holmes always was in charge, there was no doubt about that, but Dr. Watson held his own, often chiding his friend about his brusque manner, and muttering the occasional “Not good, Sherlock,” under his breath so that, as he thought, only his companion could hear.

So it was with mild surprise that Constable Smith discovered that, on this particular occasion, Sherlock Holmes was accompanied by not by Dr. Watson, but a small slender woman with long brown hair. Smith stood off to the side examining the two consultants, who she found to be a study in opposites. Holmes was taller than average, with a commanding attitude, and a wardrobe that belonged on the pages of GQ. The woman, who she knew must be “his” pathologist, Dr. Molly Hooper, was shorter than average, with an unassuming attitude bordering on reticence, and clothing much more suited to this crime scene investigation. His dark coat was long and flowing, hers was short and hugged her slim body; his navy scarf was knotted with a studied precision while her much more colorful one hung from her neck carelessly. She wore a practical set of trainers, while his shoes were beautifully made and highly polished. But nothing could be more different than their eyes. Molly’s eyes were warm, the color of melted chocolate, while Sherlock’s eyes seemed cold despite their beautiful blue-green color. Sherlock Holmes was stunning to look at with his shock of curls and his beautifully formed mouth. Molly Hooper probably wouldn’t turn any heads, but once she spoke her warmth, humor, and beautiful smile would win anyone over.

Constable Smith observed the pair’s behavior. As soon as they arrived, Holmes had shoved the large bundle of files he had been carrying into Dr. Hooper’s arms while she tried to wrestle with pen and paper. He made a circle around the body of the unfortunate man currently reposing on the sidewalk, bending over occasionally to examine something at a closer range. When he had gone a full 360 degrees, he gestured impatiently for Molly to make her own observations. She was, after all, a pathologist. Dr. Hooper followed his path around the corpse, getting closer than Holmes, but seeming to make notes at the same precise spots as he had. She struggled to balance the small notepad on the stack of files, trying desperately to keep her writing legible. When she was finished, she nodded at Holmes, who immediately turned to Lestrade to give his report. 

“This was barely a three, Graham…”

“Greg,” Lestrade corrected him with a weary sigh.

“Molly will give you our notes. Not really worth our efforts.”

Lestrade looked at this man whom he called friend and wanted to kick his arse. This was not unusual, as most of Sherlock’s friends wanted to kick his arse, or other more delicate portions of his anatomy. Sherlock gave a dismissive wave of his hand and strode away, leaving Molly to follow, her arms weighed down by the files he had handed off to her earlier. Soon his longer strides had greatly outpaced hers. Observing this, Constable Smith thought to herself, “What an insufferable git!”, but was soon amazed at what followed.

Dr. Molly Hooper came to a halt, straightened herself to her not very considerable full height, and said with unexpected firmness, “Sherlock, heel!”, as if she were speaking to an errant puppy.

Sherlock Holmes, famous detective, stopped dead in his tracks, and lowered his head with a guilty expression. He then turned on his heel and quickly walked back to Molly, who was eyeing him with some displeasure. Sherlock smiled at her sheepishly, bent down to take the cumbersome materials from her arms, and kissed her gently on the cheek. Now that her hands were free, Molly reached up as if to touch his hair. But to Constable Smith’s surprise, she found that Dr. Hooper was actually scratching the detective behind his ear. Sherlock smiled contentedly, taking “his” pathologist’s hand and intertwining his fingers with hers as the two walked away to hail a cab.

Greg Lestrade moved in closer to the newest member of his team. “Molly’s been trying a new training system,” he explained. “ Sherlock knows that if he behaves, he’ll get a special treat when they get home,” Greg chuckled and moved off to supervise the clean-up. 

But before he was out of earshot he added one last thing, “I would have gone with a bloody shock collar!”


End file.
